Ascent
by PsychoCircus
Summary: This is Palpatine, reflecting on his plan for galactic domination, from his point of view on a smattering of events from The Prequel Trilogy. In his own thoughts, he allows you to see what went through his mind during those years. A vignette, originally published on another fan fic site about eleven years ago under my Star Wars alias, Jedi Linewalker
**AN** – This is a vignette in a series of stories I originally published on under my Star Wars alias, Jedi Linewalker. This is the documentation of Palpatine's reflections as he contemplates galactic domination. Please read, review, tell me what you think!

The steel of the chair is cold, and surprisingly, the energy binders holding my wrists to the arms of the chair are not hot. They just _are._ My eyes sweep towards the door as I hear the sound of the door opening. Its very hard not to smile as I see the faces of the entrants, my would be rescuers, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Anakin Skywalker. My, my, how wonderfully this is going.

Look at them. So confident and complete in their belief that they are the victors of the moment. This kidnapping scheme worked far better than I had anticipated. Here they come, I must put on a proper air of distress and appear as if I am here against my will. If only they knew…

Obi-Wan Kenobi steps up to me first. Oh, how chivalrous. He bows so eloquently to me. Soon, he'll be bowing much more eloquently, acknowledging me as his master, but not yet. Not yet. First, I want to savor the moment, and enjoy the show that's about to begin. I can enjoy his agony later, assuming he survives.

The elder Jedi rises from his bow and looks at me with those earnest blue eyes of his, so full of compassion and kindness. Weakness! The fool! He says quietly, "Supreme Chancellor." A greeting. The Jedi come to rescue me, and he greets me as if we're having lunch together.

But Anakin, ah, Anakin. That's another story. The young man is filled with darkness just trying its best to get out, just as I knew it would be, just as I've been cultivating it since the fiasco on Naboo. He's genuinely worried, still deluded by the lies of the Jedi, but that won't last much longer. "Are you all right?" he asks me, his voice full of tension.

Oh, how twisted the fates of men can be, and how wonderfully they bend to the shape of a strong man's will. To revel in your power is to take it unto yourself and make it part of you, make yourself inseparable from it. A lesson these pitiful, pathetic Jedi never learned over the millennia. That will be their undoing, of course. The very things they reject are what will destroy them.

But for now, I must play the role that I'm expected to play. In an odd mix of revulsion and rejoicing, I contort my features in an expression of haggard pain. I can feel the blood draining from my face as if I were truly as beset by my circumstances as I appear. Delightful. I manage to make the catch in my throat, mixed with the weakness of my voice utterly convincing. I, myself, would fall for it, if I heard it uttered by another, as I gasp out quietly, "Count Dooku."

Then, as if on cue, I point towards the door, weakly of course, and they open, admitting the form of my apprentice, Darth Tyranus, or Count Dooku, whichever you prefer. He stands tall and proud on the balcony overlooking us, an impressive figure of a man, even for a man of his years. He's much older than I, but so naïve in so many ways. That will soon change, very soon, and very quickly.

My two rescuers turn to see him, and they share some sort of banal interaction, briefly. Who knows, or cares, what they said? All that matters is that they fall prey to the machinations I've so carefully planned for them. They do, surprisingly well. This will be much easier than I thought. How easily misguided these weak, soulless Jedi are.

Staying in line with my part, of course, I strain as much as I dare, to their perception, against my bonds, and lean forward, crying out, "Get help! You're no match for him. He's a Sith Lord." I can see the crooked half smile on my apprentice's face as I speak, and the hapless Jedi haven't the foggiest notion of what he smiles about. Good, good.

Kenobi, that arrogant twit, however, turns around to me and gives me that cocky, lopsided little grin of his, and enunciates, "Chancellor Palpatine, Sith Lords are our specialty." He and Anakin then proceed to shed their outer robes, and I have to suppress an urge to chuckle. If only they were aware of the very real danger that they are in.

Dooku, also playing his part to the hilt, requests their lightsabers in a most civilized fashion, making some inane comment about not making a mess of things in front of me. Of course, the Jedi ignore this and battle commences. In true Sith tradition, Dooku goads the Jedi, taunting them, trying to make them give in to their anger. I can feel my own hate swelling within me, a euphoric rush of pure power and ecstasy as I realize that soon, oh, so very soon, what I want will be completely within my grasp.

The battle continues, most exciting I might add, for a few moments, until Dooku sends Kenobi flying towards the balcony, unconscious. That should shut him up for awhile. The urge to strike him down where he stands is almost overpowering every time I see him. However, patience, I must exercise patience. Lack of patience destroyed almost all the Sith a millennia ago. I won't repeat that same mistake.

Now, Dooku and Anakin fight one another, their blades flashing through the growing darkness with the colorful explosions of power one expects from an epic duel. Dooku continues to goad young Anakin, and I can feel his anger, his hate, growing. Yes, Dooku, yes. Seize that moment. Capitalize on it. Make him release that anger, that hate, in a powerful explosion.

Yes, Anakin's hate and anger is making him strong! Much stronger than Dooku anticipated, I think, for he looks very surprised, as well as pained, when Anakin's blade takes both his hands, sending his lightsaber into the air, which lands deftly in Anakin's other hand. The boy's back is to me, and I can't help but grin at the immense power the boy just demonstrated. Oh, finally, an apprentice worthy of the mantle of the Sith. I will have this boy as mine.

As Dooku goes to his knees, in pain and supplication, the boy stands over him, both blades ignited now and crossed at his neck. Summoning my most wheedling and reasonable sounding voice, I speak quietly, "Good, Anakin, good. I knew you could do it. Kill him. Kill him now!" The look on Dooku's face as he jerks his eyes towards me and looks at me in horror and shock is priceless, well worth all the trouble endured so far to make my plans come to fruition.

But the boy falters. His blasted Jedi training is taking over. He's losing that edge of anger and hatred. But he seems unsure, confused. I can turn that to my advantage. He shakes his head slowly, and almost whispers, "I shouldn't…" I can feel that he wants to, oh yes, he wants to kill Dooku badly, but his training says otherwise. That's something I'll have to deal with slowly.

"Do it!" I urge in a hiss, leaning forward even more, trying to project my will upon him by sheer inference. Dooku says nothing, but his horror is evident, and its refreshing and exhilarating to me. I sigh happily and draw a slow, hissing breath of content as Anakin suddenly jerks, and his hands bring the blades together around Dooku's neck, sending his head toppling to the floor, the neck cauterized and steaming, the sizzle of burned flesh loud in my ears.

Skywalker seems even more confused that before. Apparently, I was able to impose some of my will on him. Good, useful information to have in the future. He's barely speaking, almost whispering, "I couldn't stop myself." There's actual pain in his voice, he knows he just betrayed everything he's trained for. So deliciously sweet.

The explosion heard right when Anakin severed Dooku's head is still being felt in the ship, but I'm ignoring it for now. Instead, I'm sounding as reasonable as I can be, as calm and rational as you can imagine, telling him, "You did well, Anakin. He was too dangerous to be kept alive."

The boy turns towards me, extinguishing Dooku's lightsaber and drops it, moving back over towards me. The anguish in the boy's face is pure vindication on my part. He's falling exactly into my hands, as I wished. Its only a matter of time. His voice is soft, "Yes, but he was an unarmed prisoner."

The boy raises his hand and the restraints pop away from my wrists. The boy is talented, there's no denying that, and he will be a delight to train in the ways of the Dark Side. He isn't finished with his self pitying little diatribe, however, as he continues, "I shouldn't have done that, Chancellor. It's not the Jedi way."

Free from the restraints, I stand up and rub my wrists, animatedly and thoughtfully, regarding him with a mild gaze for a long moment. Once more calling the Force to my bidding, not to control his mind, but to be beguiling, I softly say, "It is only natural. He cut off your arm, and you wanted revenge. It wasn't the first time, Anakin. Remember what you told me about your mother and the Sand People. Now, we must leave before more security droids arrive."

Before either of us can do much more philosophizing, the ship lists to the side, almost sending us both tumbling. Anakin, the foolish boy, rushes to his friend, Kenobi, and lifts the control panel off of him, and checks his vital signs. Damn Dooku for not killing Kenobi. Innocently, I move in the direction of the elevators.

When I see he's intent on dealing with Kenobi, I turn, my face and voice both emphatic, and try to appeal to his sense of reason, in my own twisted way, "Anakin, there is no time. We must get off this ship before it's too late." I fix him with my stare, having to resist trying to impose my will on him at this point.

"He seems to be all right," Anakin says to me, still looking at the Jedi. "No broken bones, breathing's all right." He begins moving him gently to pick him up and I can't express how much hatred flowed through me at that point. I wanted to strike them both down, but that wouldn't serve my purpose, not yet, oh, no, not yet.

I decide to try to seem pragmatic again, but more emphatic this time. "Leave him, or we'll never make it," I insist, allowing a bit of frustration to show in my face and sound in my voice.

The boy doesn't care, however. He's determined to save Kenobi. Perhaps I can make that more advantageous later, but right now, I'm boiling with anger barely held in check. He looks up at me and declares, "His fate will be the same as ours." With that, he bends, slings the Jedi over his shoulder, and comes with me towards the elevator. I must be careful now, to be sure, with how I handle this in the future.

X

Later, after a battle with Grievous, in which the idiot failed to kill them, and made his escape, I nearly died with the two Jedi in the ship falling towards Coruscant. I would so enjoy taking Grievous to Mustafar and slowly dipping him into the molten landscape and listening to him scream and beg for mercy. My anger is beginning to know no bounds.

I contacted Grievous and suggested that he move the Separatist leaders to Mustafar, and await my orders there. The fool has no idea of what's coming, and I don't plan to enlighten him, not in the slightest. Let him believe what he wishes. It's all the more useful, in the end.

Events have fallen into place, however, that please me a great deal. The Senate is so easily manipulated. I stand here at my window, overlooking the city, with Anakin, who I've summoned, at my side. The next step of his subversion is underway.

After a long pause in the conversation, I say quietly, "Anakin, this afternoon, the Senate is going to call on me to take direct control of the Jedi Council." I glance over at him, to gauge his reaction, to read him. So far, it's exactly as I expected. Excellent.

The shock in his voice is palpable. How truly revolting it is that he has such feelings over so trivial a subject, but he does…and those feelings I can exploit. "The Jedi will no longer report to the Senate?" he asks almost incredulously. Oh, I have to be careful and play this one well, I can tell.

Assuming an air of defeat, of sadness, I nod softly and turn, starting to walk around my office with him. "They will report to me . . . personally. The Senate is too unfocused to conduct a war. This will bring a quick end to things," I respond, with the proper amounts of regret and savoir-faire as I continue to study him. I can feel his searching, probing. The young fool has no idea what he's dealing with.

His voice sounds so gallant, and full of conviction as he speaks, "I agree, but the Jedi Council may not see it that way." Ah, but things are coming into play that he doesn't know of yet. How very interesting this will all be very quickly.

Our feet trod softly on the plush carpeting of my office, and I smiles at the boy lightly, my eyes hiding the feelings within, "There are times when we must all endure adjustments to the constitution in the name of security." I am, of course, just being honest and wheedling towards his sense of justice and right, taking advantage of that.

To his credit, the boy isn't easily swayed so far, I have to admit. Good, he would be far too weak if he were. The boy must be a monumental challenge, if he is to yield monumental power in the end. He replies, "With all due respect, sir, the Council is in no mood for more constitutional amendments."

"Thank you, my friend, but in this case I have no choice . . . this war must be won." I let that sink in for a moment, only fixing his eyes with my own. I let him see the righteous pursuit of right and the best way in my eyes, let him see everything he seeks, letting him discover nothing.

Skywalker nods slowly at my words. His will is breaking somewhat, I can feel it. His confusion is growing. So much, the better. "Everyone will agree on that," he responds, but he doesn't sound quite as sure as his words would make him seem.

Ah, but his trust is beginning to waver in favor of that damnable Jedi ethical code. Something must be done about that. It's time to increase the twist just a bit on the arm of the Light Side. I stop walking, and look at him directly, to appeal to him, "Anakin, I've known you since you were a small boy. I have advised you over the years when I could ... I am very proud of your accomplishments. You have won many battles the Jedi Council thought were lost . . . and you saved my life. I hope you trust me, Anakin." With that last sentence, I pour pound upon pound of sincerity and earnestness into my voice. I also put torque on his very soul. He has a duty to his precious Jedi Council, but also to me.

He speaks quietly, and with that, the next phase of the game begins. "Of course," he assures me, and I can feel the conviction within him. He thinks he's doing the right thing, of course. How convenient for me.

"I need your help, son," I say without a hint of irony, reeling him into the sense of complacency and trust that I need him in. I can do what I plan without him, but it'd be so much sweeter to do it with him. He must be mine to control, and to gain that control, I must be subtle and brutal at the same time.

"What do you mean?" he asks, his uncertainty ringing in my ears and in the vaulted silence of my chambers. His wavering only shows my influence is increasing.

My breath sighs out of my lips like an ill contained ghost, and I allow a look of abject sadness, mixed with a hint of fear, to cloud my eyes and face. "I fear the Jedi. The Council keeps pushing for more control. They're shrouded in secrecy and obsessed with maintaining their autonomy . . . ideals. I find simply incomprehensible in a democracy." All lies, cleverly crafted around circumstantial evidence, of course, but he'll never discover otherwise.

As he speaks, I have to suppress a growl of indigent rage. That code and righteous belief is starting to solidify in his mind once again. Breaking him will not be easy. He almost stares at me and nods slowly, as if in reassurance, "I can assure you that the Jedi are dedicated to the values of the Republic, sir." It's all I can do not to strike him and send him flying across my office, but I don't. I remain calm and patient.

It's obvious I need to put more pressure on his morality. I have to stop a slow grin from forming on my lips as we start our walk around the office again, and I speak in a soft tone, "Nevertheless, their actions will speak more loudly than their words. I'm depending on you." Now, how will he react to that? Will he do as I hope, as I expect? Or will he balk?

The boy's confusion is almost comical. I suppress the urge to laugh as he so innocently inquires, "For what? I don't understand." Ah, but he has not the slightest clue. By the time he does, it'll be far, far too late. I'll be in power, and he'll be my apprentice, exactly as I have foreseen.

Shifting in my robes, I try to appear amazed that he doesn't understand what I'm saying, as if my trust and confidence in him should be so very readily apparent. With some soft prodding, I simply reply, "To be the eyes, ears, and voice of the Republic . . ."

His brows come together in a thoughtful frown. I can feel his confusion welling within him. He wants the power, but he feels he doesn't deserve it because of that blasted code. He's at war within himself, a mighty conflict is rising, just as I'd hoped. Pressing my advantage, I continue, "Anakin . . . I'm appointing you to be my personal representative on the Jedi Council."

The shock on his face is both monumental, and so very amusing. I delight in playing the emotions of this boy back and forth upon themselves. With every passing moment, he becomes more and more mine to control. I can feel his doubt, though. The perfect fulcrum to lever him into action. He tilts his head and says, "Me? A Master? I am overwhelmed, sir, but the Council elects its own members. They will never accept this."

Oh, but what he doesn't know. Victory is so sweet and delicious, I can already taste it. It will be a short time in coming now. A little reassurance, the planting of a bit of doubt against his Jedi brethren, and his journey will be well on it's way. I solemnly regard him and give him the sage and fatherly air that seems to work so well with him, "I think they will . . . they need you more than you know."

Our conversation is relatively short after that, as if it matters. He left my office, his head full of conflicting possibilities and the seeds of dissension that would destroy his place among the Jedi, and cement his place at my side. Everything is proceeding exactly as I have foreseen. Where my predecessors, and my own master, failed, I will succeed. The Sith will rule the galaxy very, very soon, and with this boy's potential, I will unlock the secrets of the Force, and immortality itself.


End file.
